


Heroic Confessions

by furyofthetimelords



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1919769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furyofthetimelords/pseuds/furyofthetimelords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ichabod Crane makes a surprising confession to his co-worker, Abbie Mills. (a prompt I got on tumblr that got a little out of hand)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroic Confessions

Abbie didn’t quite believe him at first. It felt too impossible.  _Ichabod Crane_ of all people could not be a superhero. He was that geeky professor who always wore the same damn coat and forgot how to work the office’s coffee maker (no matter how many times she’d shown him how), not a guy in spandex who fought crime. It simply wasn't possible. 

"I don’t believe it," she’d told him flatly, unable to process it. 

"I…I know it must sound insane, but I truly am. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I suppose I just wanted you to know," he’d said the last part almost shyly, as if it were some kind of confession. He’d gone a little red too, blushing. 

"Then show me. If you’re a superhero, then prove it," she said. Abbie had only ever believed in what she could see with her own two eyes and Ichabod as a superhero was something she was having a hard time picturing. Sure there were superheroes, that was simply a fact of the world, but someone like Ichabod Crane could not possibly be one of them. He was the guy who accidently broke the aircon during summer, not a guy with powers who fought crime. That couldn't be possible. 

"Okay, Miss Mills," he replied, ever formal. It would have been annoying, but his posh british accent made it somewhat charming.

"Abbie. Call me Ab—what are you doing?"

"Proving it to you," he replied, pulling off his other sleeve and dropping the coat too the ground and starting on his shirt, unbuttoning it swiftly. 

Abbie looked away, feeling embarassed. It felt strangely intimate seeing him without that coat on. He even wore it in summer, no matter how hot it got. 

"Look at me Mi—Abbie," Ichabod said and Abbie looked up.

"Oh my god," she said, looking at the suit beneath his clothes. It wasn’t spandex, but it fit his body, the material clinging to him like it was wet. The suit itself was almost too familiar. She’d seen it before, the logo on his chest plastered across many a newspaper.

"No," she said, mostly to herself. It was wild enough to believe Ichabod was a superhero, but him being  _The Witness_  of all things. “You’re not.”

"I’m afraid I am," he said. "I’m the witness."

"So you do all of that..stuff. The flying around with the headless horseman and everything."

"Yes, I do," he replied. "Although he's not exactly headless."

"That’s…interesting," she said, thinking back to all the news broadcasts she’d seen of The Witness, that phantom figure who flew around the city, trying to place this man before her in them. It was hard to picture, to reconcile this man who barely knew how to work a coffee machine with the masked vigilante on tv. "You've been holding out on me."

He smiled. “I guess I have. Do...do you want to fly with me?”

She looked up at him and in a moment of impulsivity, she blurted out her own secret. “I can fly just fine on my own.”

He looked up, surprised. “I…oh, so you are…?”

"Not anyone yet," she replied. "I could be."

It wasn't something she'd discussed much before. Mostly her powers weren't anything she wanted to believe, although maybe if someone like Ichabod could find it in him to become a superhero, maybe she could too. After all, her sister Jenny had always been so insistent she become more than a "boring box worker".

"Well, Abbie, I’d be delighted if you join me sometime," he said with a smile that lit up his face. Reflexivly, Abbie smiled back. There was just something infectious about the way he smiled. Perhaps because he was always so genuine about it. Or maybe because she usually him scowling at the coffee machine or some other peice of technology he hadn't quite worked out. 

"I’m not going to be your sidekick."

"I wouldn’t want you to be anyway. I’d rather a partner," he replied. "So, Coffee?"

"Only if you let me take you out. The machine is broken."

"Sure," he said, extending his hand. "Let's go."


End file.
